


Cloud Nine

by boltschick2612



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016 Stanley Cup Playoffs, M/M, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltschick2612/pseuds/boltschick2612
Summary: Braydon knows that hockey players are superstitious creatures by nature, but he thinks there must be some type of hierarchy. Eating the same thing every game day hovers above wearing the same clothes, but is definitely below not washing your jock. And then there's Slater.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written to take place during the final game of the 2016 Eastern Conference Final, and to fill a prompt I received on my Tumblr, seen [here.](http://boltschick2612.tumblr.com/post/152227415598/things-you-said-when-we-were-the-happiest-we-ever)

Somewhere in the hazy corners of his mind, somewhere between half asleep and nearly awake, Braydon could register the sound of insistent pounding, but his body was powerless to do anything about it. Maybe if he lay in his bed long enough, the noise that he could only assume was at his front door, would stop. Surely whatever and whoever it was could wait. No way it was anything that required him to be conscious at such an insane hour. Except, Braydon suddenly remembered that it wasn't such an insane hour, and the afternoon sun streaming in through the thin bedroom curtains served as damning evidence. 

The noise wasn't stopping, much to Braydon's disappointment. He finally threw the covers off his body with a little more force than was really required, and trudged to his front door, letting out random curses the entire way. He knew what he was saying didn't make much sense, but it made him feel better all the same. 

His words ceased, however, the second Braydon swung open the door to see Slater standing on the other side, impatiently tapping his fingers on the doorframe. 

It wasn't surprising Slater was there at all, given that he spends most of his time at Braydon's anyways. The shock came from the fact of exactly _when_ he was there; on a game day. 

One of the things Braydon quickly discovered about Slater, around the same time that he also learned Slater likes to take his kisses with just a little bit of bite, was that he was extremely superstitious when it came to his game day rituals, even more so than the usual level that was expected from them. Braydon actually didn't mind it for the most part, it was just one of those things that made Slater who he was, but there was just one thing that he couldn't get past. No matter how many times he had begged, pleaded, and bargained, Slater refused to nap anywhere but alone in his hotel room. 

But for some reason Braydon's sleep hazed mind had yet to ascertain, Slater was there now, and he was nervous energy personified, seemingly jumping out of his skin. He was just about to break the silence, to ask Slater what was wrong, and what he was doing there, but Slater cut him off before he had the chance. 

”I can't freaking sleep.” With that, Slater pushed past Braydon, his steps quick and full of frustration. Braydon's kitchen wasn't far off from the entryway, and Slater was pulling up a stool at the marble island before Braydon even closed the front door. Braydon just stood there for a moment, wondering if maybe he was still dreaming, before finally following Slater into the kitchen. 

He didn't meet Slater's eyes, or even look in his direction. He was too busy trying to kick his brain out of sleep mode, and register just exactly what was going on. Clearly Slater was upset about something, something troubling enough to keep him awake, and Braydon knew he had to do something about it, whatever 'it’ was. He decided to bide his time by calmly shuffling toward the fridge, acting unfazed as he swung open the door, and scanned its contents for a bottle of water. 

Braydon's brain was slowly starting to catch up to the rest of him, and he finally worked out that Slater not being able to sleep was the problem, and he knew exactly what was causing his sleepless state. 

“Maybe because you refuse to nap here, though I don't know why. You know you sleep better when I'm around,” Braydon said matter of factly, his face still buried in the fridge.

“You know why.” Slater's voice cracked with exhaustion, and it was laced at the edges with irritation. 

Braydon finally turned to face Slater, walked the few short steps to the kitchen island, and took a spot standing opposite where Slater was sitting. 

“Oh, is there a game today or something?” Braydon said through a slight chuckle. He slid Slater one of the bottles he had grabbed from the fridge, and Slater mindlessly reached for it, even though he wasn't thirsty. 

He knew he didn't have the energy to come up with anything other than a lame, half-hearted excuse. “I just figured we needed all the luck we can get.”

Braydon rolled his eyes, and let out a little huff. “Don't be so superstitious, the outcome of the game doesn't hinder on what bed you sleep in.”

“Says the guy that wears the same busted t-shirt every game day,” Slater quipped, waving his hand lamely in Braydon’s direction, motioning towards the same Winter Hawks shirt that seemed to find its way onto his body every game day. Slater certainly wasn't about to complain, though. The shirt was so threadbare that it was blissfully see through in all the right spots. 

Braydon just shrugged. “There's a difference. I'm a creature of habit. And it's comfortable.” 

“How can you be so calm right now?”

“I've been through this about a million times.” Braydon slowly walked around to the other side of the marble island, standing mere inches from Slater, and just as slowly, Slater swiveled his chair to face him. 

“You're exaggerating,” Slater said, and allowed himself just the smallest bit of a smirk. 

“Maybe.” 

An instant later Slater's expression changed, his smile fell, and Braydon knew there was more going on than originally appeared at the surface.

“This isn't only about the game, huh?” Braydon asked softly, reaching up and trailing his fingers along Slater's jaw.

“It's just,” Slater started before letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m happy. Happiest I've ever been. And I can't help but feel like something is gonna come along and change that.”

A chaos of conflicting emotions played through Braydon in that instant; joy and sadness, confusion and certainty. He knew he would gladly do anything in his power to never see Slater this upset and nervous again. He brushed his fingers through Slater's hair, and laid a featherlight kiss at the corner of his lips. “Look, no matter what happens tonight, I promise you'll be fine. _We'll_ be fine.”

Slater's eyebrows raised slightly, questioning,  
and he met Braydon's eyes with intensity. “Promise me?”

“Promise,” Braydon said with a smile.

All Slater could do was smile, and laugh. “One more thing...do we have time for a nap?”


End file.
